I is for Impossible
by EternalEccentric
Summary: OLD SCREEN NAME: Insane.Dream.Walker The chapters for I from my other story Living and Fighting. May come across as senseless word vomit but for that I blame Batshit and the Flu : PLEASE R&R :
1. Bobby

You remember the first time you saw Sam and Dean Winchester. Had to be about fourteen years ago, a tiny four-year-old boy with big, green-brown, wondering eyes half hidden behind his eight-year-old hero of a brother. You remember your first thought being somewhere along the lines of _'Damn their too young for this'_. You also remember the way John had shrugged at least semi-apologetically before telling Dean to watch out for Sammy and taking off for some werewolf hunt a state away.

The first couple of days were…awkward to say the least. Dean didn't speak much and watched you like a hawk if you were within ten feet of his little brother. He warmed up to you though once he learned that he had basically free access to the cars in the yard. Even at that age he was a budding car fanatic with a mischievous smile and a sharp sense of humor. Sam, for his part, was a fair bit more trusting at that point, always filled with a childlike wonder and questions. He read through a quarter of your non-occult related library in the two weeks they were with you. When you told John about that he smiled proudly, if a little sadly, praising Sam as his little genius.

Later, after they left, you thought you should have pointed out that Dean was the one who taught him to read.

--------

You don't see them again until about five years later, and you could tell right off that something had changed. Dean had grown a bit taller, and a hell of a lot tougher. His base instincts hadn't changed much though. Sammy, Hunting, Cars, (and girls which was a new, but not particularly surprising addition) all still ranked above himself on the importance meter.

Sam had grown too, but in a much different way, you could tell the second he got out of the car. He had the same air now, that same subtle hint of danger that John and Dean carry beginning to show through. He finally been included in the hunting fold and while he's less trusting, less carefree then he was the last time you saw him, he's still the same at the most basic level. Still a child with an easy smile and an almost insatiable thirst for knowledge.

John takes off again, and while you grumble at being seen as some sort of freelance babysitter, your happy inside to get to spend more time with them. Sam and Dean, those two are something different, they bring life to the old junkyard. Hell, honestly, you wouldn't have it any other way.

--------

When you get a call at three in the morning six years later you know instinctively that it's one of the Winchester's calling. You know instinctively that something's wrong. Picking up the phone on it's sixth ring you try hard not to panic.

Sam's on the other side of the line and he sounds beat nine ways from Hell. Dressing as he speaks you learn that he's with Dean in Southern Wyoming and Dean's in the hospital cause they fucked up the hunt and could he please, please, _please _come cause Dean's not doing to good and Pastor Jim isn't answering his phone and truthfully he's scared and can't do this alone. You can tell Sam's _this_ close to falling apart and swear to be there as soon as possible.

It doesn't occur to you until after you've hung up to ask if John's there or not.

You make it there in what must be record breaking time, probably scaring the hell out of the poor receptionist when you blow into the hospital like the second fucking coming. She shakily directs you to the room Dean's in and offers to call the doctor. You thank her as politely as you can, feeling kinda bad for your initial appearance before proceeding down the hall.

Saying Dean looked like shit was likely putting it kindly at the time. Laid out on the bed, hooked up to no less than six machines with a tube down his throat to boot. Sam's slumped in the chair beside the bed, way too fucking pale himself, with dark bags under his eyes and a sling on one arm. He doesn't appear to notice you at first, staring off somewhere only he can see with eyes way to god-damned old for a fifteen year old boy to have, even in this line of work. The doctor interrupts your musings, pulling you back into the hallway so he can give you the info privately.

They had arrived apparently last week, Sam dragging Dean through the ER doors, practically drenched in his brothers blood, with claw marks from what must have been some big ass, very pissed off, animal curving down the latter's chest. It wasn't until the doctors had Dean on a stretcher and were taking him for emergency surgery that anyone had noticed Sam was bleeding too, and even then it was only because Sam collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. Other than the slashes Dean's suffering from massive blood loss, internal bleeding, a fractured collarbone, Simple pneumothorax of his left lung, and various other bruises. Sam's injuries are much simpler, some moderate slashes to his right side and a broken arm along with his own collection of bruises and scrapes.

You nod shortly and return to the room, not bothering to ask if John is there because if he is your gonna be pissed and if he isn't your gonna be pissed with the added bonus of raising unneeded questions.

Sam doesn't speak much when you return to the room but the obvious relief in his eyes and the fact that he's out like a light about ten minutes later is good enough for you.

Dean wakes up about a week later. You dropped Sam back off at the motel with specific orders to shower and sleep. _(he hadn't argued, which in your mind was reason enough to worry) _You haven't seen or heard from John this entire period. He doesn't seem surprised to see you and that raises your concern, if possible, even higher. You manage to wheedle the story out of him piece-by-piece.

He and Sam had been following some unusual disappearances in the nearby mountains and the damn Wendigo _(because of course it had to be a fucking Wendigo) _had snatched Dean away, holding him for a few days before Sam had found him and killed it. Even as you listen with horror, your respect for them as hunters rises but the absence of John still worries you, when asked about him Dean becomes even more withdrawn. Sam speaks up behind you and both of you jump, because _damn_ the boy can move quietly. Your surprise is quickly replaced by rage though as Sam speaks.

Apparently John left. Vanished completely off the radar a year ago. Every once in a while they'll get a text or a call letting them know he's safe but other than that he hasn't contacted them.

Even as anger courses through you, your not really surprised and that pisses you off more because it shouldn't be so fucking easy for John to leave them. Dean and Sam shouldn't be so calm, so adjusted about the fact that he was gone. You shouldn't be so unsurprised that he left them behind.

The next time you see John you are so gonna fucking shoot his ass.

--------

They adjusted as the years slipped by. You kept a closer eye on them anyways, part instinct and part care. (_Though you probably wouldn't admit it aloud) _It was odd watching them interact though, their relationship confused the hell out of you now. They were obviously still brothers and interacted as such but their relationship had a faintly father/son element to it. You realize slowly that it was always there, just more present now that John's gone.

Dean takes legal custody of Sam on his twentieth birthday, got a judge to sign off on it and everything. Sam doesn't know this and the only reason you do is because Dean got drunk off his ass and told you while Sam was asleep.

Tragedy had to strike at some point though, it always seems to do so in the Winchester family.

Three days after his seventeenth birthday Sam disappears, just as suddenly and cleanly as John did. Only your positive that Sam didn't just run off, he's too close to Dean to do that, too in tuned to his older brothers feeling to hurt him like this. It's a harrowing time, and Dean drives himself so close to the edge that, for a while at least, your sure he'll go over and totally lose it.

About three months later you catch a break, the faintest trail that turned out to be just the chance Dean needed. You get the call later that week, Dean found Sam and while you hear the obvious relief and happiness in his voice you also hear the underlying fear and hopelessness.

Once again you find yourself rushing to another hospital, for another Winchester.

Fucking déjà vu'.

--------

"_Sam's in bad shape" _

You feel the insane urge to laugh as you get to the hospital and get your first glimpse of the youngest Winchester. Flashing back suddenly you remember a scene just like this, with the opposite Winchester in the bed, only this time its so much worse because _people_ did this to him. Some stupid fucking cult that's apparently been snatching teens for years.

A god-damned case of wrong place-wrong time that damn near got him killed.

Dean lists the injuries for you, growing paler and more pissed as he does. Broken ankle, Deep lacerations in both wrists and ankles where chains had dug into the flesh , a spot on his shoulder where they had fucking _branded _him with some damn sigil, multiple bruises and cuts, starvation, _and_ he had to come down from whatever drug they had kept him doped up with to keep him docile. Your shaking by the time Dean finishes saying the doctor doesn't expect Sam to pull through, a combination of disgust, fear, sorrow, and rage. You hide it though, knowing Dean needs you to be the rock at this point, but for fucks sake how much do these boys, whom you've come to love like your own sons, have to bear. A God somewhere must be laughing his ass off. Your beginning to understand why Dean would rather not believe a God exists.

--------

Sam pulls through, against all odds he makes it, but its obvious right away that things can't go back to the way they were. He's more withdrawn than before, not speaking much and watching everything that happens with suspicious, haunted eyes.

You never know for sure if Sam ever told Dean what happened during those months but you see the worried glances Dean sends him and have the uneasy feeling that he's bottling it up inside. Faint scars still track down Sam's arms and he's taken to wearing long sleeves and hoodies to avoid the curious stares of strangers. His smile appears less often and is more ironic when it does, honestly you've only seen him truly smile, dimples and all, once since the incident.

It's bizarre but you think he buries himself further into supernatural, taking comfort in the insanity of the unseen world to avoid what madness lingers in the normal one. He's strictly research work for a while though, under the combined order of both you and Dean, and while you can tell he doesn't like the idea of Dean out hunting alone, you can swear there's a glimmer of relief in his eyes.

--------

John comes back June 4, 2001 and shit just goes straight downhill.

Sam and Dean have been staying with you again, it's actually become a regular thing lately. You think it's a combo of the open space and familiarity the space excludes. Things are still kind of rough, you know for a fact that Sam's still having nightmares, though it's not nearly as bad as it was a year ago and Dean won't let him out of his sight for anything other than trips to the bathroom.

A black truck pulls up to the house and your stunned _(and more than a little pissed) _when John climbs out of the cab. Dean looks like he's feeling the same way you are but Sam's reaction puzzles and worries you the most. He's pale, shaking slightly with wide eyes as he watches John approach from the kitchen window. As John knocks of the front door he slips almost soundlessly out the back. You and Dean share an uneasy look before you answer the door. John marches straight through, grabbing Dean by the arm in the process. You stay back, thinking for a moment before deciding to take your chance going after Sam. Cowardly it may be but you can feel a fight brewing and aren't taking the chance of getting caught in between.

Finding Sam is surprisingly easy but regardless of that by the time your trudging back to the house the yelling can be heard from about thirty feet away. Sam gets this look on his face, all John and Dean and cold determination rolled into one. He takes off like a shot, bolting up the stairs and through the door. The shouting stops abruptly and as you enter you can see why. Sam's set himself between Dean and John, glaring hard enough at the latter that, personally, you'd be running in the other direction. Then he doing something nobody expects.

He punches John in the face.

John stumbles back, shock evident on his face, and Dean holds Sam back impulsively as he begins to advance, some rather impressive curses pouring out of his mouth. You watch torn between shock and amusement as Sam slips through a few different languages, cussing out John while fighting to get out of Dean's grip. Dean's smirking slightly as he holds Sam back but he's obviously confused at the reaction as well. John climbs slowly to his feet, still rubbing his jaw. Sam falls abruptly silent, eyes shining uncertainly as he continues to glare. You slip quietly out of the room again.

It's obviously a family thing and while you know things may be a little more than fucked up now your sure things are gonna be okay.

* * *

**AN: **Okay this was an AU kind of thing. It kind of came to me suddenly earlier today. I've been stuck at home for the past two days with the damn Flu or something and it's driving me crazy.

Unbeataed so if it comes across as senseless word vomit thats probably it. _(though I blame Batshit for this...thing)_ If you've made it to this point though it'd be incredibly freakin awesome if you'd review :)

Thanks so much for reading !!  
Jess :)


	2. Dean part 1

**_ DISCLAIMER: _*sob* no ownage of the Winchester's here :(**

**_ AN: CHAPTER 2 !!!_**

**_ So this story was orginally just supposed to be a single chapter but a few people wanted some other POV's so, for their pleasure (and hopefully yours too, Here's a little bit of Dean :)_**

**_ It follows the same basic storyline as Bobby's chapter, and I tried to keep him in character but it's an alternate universe so I may have slipped a little. It's also going to be in two parts. I'm almost done with part two but they were just to long for my taste when put together._**

**_ Anyways, venture forth brave reader, into the word spew ahead :)_**

**_ Jess_**

* * *

When you first saw Sam you were…confused. This was what Mommy and Daddy were so excited about for forever? The little wriggling thing in mommy's arms that won't stop crying? Daddy's hovering behind her, a worried look on his face as they try unsuccessfully to make him quiet. The crying finally gets to be too much and you haul yourself on the couch next to Mommy and grab one of Sammy's waving fists. He quiets almost instantly, big green-brown eyes staring curiously at you.

"He's ugly." you say after a few quietly tense moments.

Sammy gives you this scrunched, pout-y looks, _(his first ever bitch face)_ like he understood what you said perfectly and Daddy inhales sharply behind you but Sammy doesn't start crying again. He also doesn't let go of your fingers either though, so Mommy shifts over so you can sit closer.

Six and half months later it's your first memory as Daddy juggles a crying Sammy with a huge book he's trying to read. You slide wordlessly onto the couch beside him and catch Sammy's fist, a tiny smile just barely flickering across your face as the wailing stops.

--------

A few weeks after Sammy's fourth birthday Dad leaves you both with someone he keeps calling Singer. You don't like the guy at first, he's too old, too smelly, and too strange _(And you've seen some weird stuff in the past four years) _for you feel comfortable leaving Sammy around. but this guy, who's only redeeming quality is the fact that he lives in a car salvage yard, is weird to the bones. He cusses less than Dad does, especially around you, and seems to care almost too much, always making sure your both fed and clean and don't need anything.

Eventually he gets tired of your suspicious glares and offers to let you help him fix up the '75 Chevy Camaro he's been tinkering with for the past few months. Your only eight years old and don't know much about cars beyond the fact that Dad's car is cool as hell but Dads been talking about teaching you how to drive lately and Singers actually a better teacher than he looks to be. Sammy's sitting quietly in the back seat with one of his picture books as you stand with Bobby _(the first time you called him Singer got this weird sad disappointed look on his face and told you his name was Bobby) _at the hood, listening intently as he points out the different parts of the engine and explains how they work.

When Dad gets back a few days later to pick you and Sammy up, your a little disappointed to be leave. You stand by the car you and Bobby fixed as he talks to Dad. He surprises you when he comes up and tells you the car will be waiting next time they come by, cause you honestly never expected to see Bobby again.

--------

On your ninth birthday Dad takes you on your first hunt. You've helped research before and practiced shooting but this is the first time you've actually gone with him and seen the guy in action.

Frankly your scared shitless to go and scared worse to leave Sammy alone. Though he's not technically alone since he's staying with Pastor Jim but it doesn't feel right to watch from the back window as he watches you leave. There's this empty feeling in your gut without him beside you that just seems to grow bigger the further away Jim's house gets.

The hunt was a simple one really. Some old lady that tripped over one of her grandsons toys and fell down the stairs, breaking her neck. Salt and Burn, Exorcism afterwards for good measure. The trouble came when Dad stopped for the night at some rathole of a motel because he couldn't focus on the road anymore.

Turns out the fucking motel was haunted and it _really_ didn't like children. Dad got the exorcism done before too much damage was done. Unfortunately though it was after the spirit decided to chuck a very large, very ugly, and very heavy lamp at your head. It missed, mostly, but the shouting and resulting crash from the lamp led to the manager calling the cops who tried to detain Dad when they saw the scrape on your head and the shattered lamp in the corner.

You called Pastor Jim with the motel phone when the cops weren't looking. Luckily for Dad the Pastor only lived about three and a half hours away. He got there before the cops managed to rouse someone from Social Services enough to come. Dad congratulated you later for thinking so quickly.

A year later, after the Shtriga almost gets Sammy, you watch Dad comfort him and wonder if you did the right thing

--------

You can remember the day Sammy stopped completely trusting Dad perfectly.

It was Christmas Eve, 1991. He had found Dad's journal _(because Dad just had to forget the fucking thing this time) _and read through it. Part of you was pissed at Dad for leaving it, scared of what his reaction to Sammy reading it would be. Another part was pissed at Sam for prying, for just having to go snooping through shit. You know this parts completely illogical 'cause Dads been thinking about introducing Sammy to the hunting world for a while now but you wanted him to have those extra few days to be carefree. Though Sam's never been truly carefree _(a life on the road will do that to you) _he's wasn't constantly having to watch the shadows.

In the morning, after your attempt to save Christmas fails miserably, Sammy gives you the necklace. The things a little -okay a lot- ugly but you feel like it's not just the necklace Sam's giving you. It's the trust, the "yeah you've lied but I understand" and the "I wish I didn't have to", that's conveyed wordlessly through the simple passage and acceptance of a single gift.

The rest of the day passes relatively quickly. Sammy insists on returning the presents to the little girls house, leaving them on the front porch with a small sorry note taped to the top. You hide in the trees across the street with him as the mom opens the door and finds them, looking around a little suspiciously before bringing them in. You pass the time waiting for Dad to get back teaching Sam a few self-defense moves that you've mastered. He's a quick learner, still trying to be just like his older brother. By the time Dad does actually get back he's got two out of six down perfectly.

You notice that he's more reserved, cautious, around Dad after he gets back. Dad probably doesn't and that confuses and irritates you at the same time. Sam's his fucking son, he ought to notice that something's different.

As you fall asleep listening to the harsh snoring of Dad across the room and the soft breathing of Sam beside you the fact that you've raised Sam more than he has whispers quietly across your thoughts.

--------

When did Sammy become Sam?

It had to be some time in between that memorable Christmas and when Dad started drifting, when training eclipsed all other aspects of life _(You half expected Dad to snap at that point and start ranting about the best, of the best, of the best. and Semper Fidelis or something)_ Your sweet baby brother started becoming more withdrawn around you both, more sarcastic and cutting, spending longer periods at the library almost to the point where you'd have to drag him back to the motel so Dad wouldn't lose it about him missing practice. Again.

One day you decided to follow him, just on a hunch, to see what he was really doing during those missing hours _(even geek boy can only spend so many hours studying) _He met with a small group of teenagers that you recognized from the school at the library lot, seeming to slide effortlessly into Normal-Sam mode, laughing and joking with the group. You couldn't hear the conversation from where you were crouched in the bushes but the sight of Sam's smile, the one the had slowly been vanishing around you and Dad, caused your heart to tighten painfully.

You lost track of time watching Sam from the bushes _(well that sounded slightly wrong) _making sure he was staying safe. The sound of your phone ringing frightened the shit out of you and for a second your sure Sam heard it but as your crawling franticly back through the undergrowth trying to muffle it he glances down at his watch, shock and panic flashing across his face before he grabs his bag and takes off. You mimic his movements as the phone stops ringing, a small beep letting you know the call's gone to voicemail, and feel your heart drop as you see the time.

By some mad, and incredibly convenient coincidence you get back to the motel at the same time Sam does. Dad's roaring pissed and your not fully sure that he believes your "outdoor training" excuse but he lets it go and the quiet thank-you from Sam as Dad walks away is payment enough for your aching legs and lungs.

--------

Dad starts drifting away as you and Sam get older, going on longer hunts, further away, leaving you and Sam to fend for yourselves for longer periods of time. It probably doesn't help that when he is home lately all he and Sam can seem to do is fight. You don't fully understand why they do it either. You remember Dad going on a hunt around Sam's twelfth birthday and when he got back something was different. He was more distant from you both but the glances you sometimes saw him shoot towards Sam were almost accusatory some how and you couldn't understand what made him act that way.

November 2, 1997 Dad falls completely off the map for almost a month. Sam goes near insane with worry as you both try fruitlessly to track him down. Once he suggests that they call in some other hunters, Bobby, Jim, Caleb, to see if they can help but you shoot that plan down immediately. Its not that you don't trust the other hunters, God knows you do with everything you've got, but that trust doesn't extend beyond them trying to call the CPS if they can't find him.

A few days before December starts you get a call at one in the morning. All traces of sleepiness vanish as you see Dad's name flashing on the caller ID. Stepping outside to avoid waking Sam, who finally collapsed around eleven at the motels tiny excuse for a table,_ (you didn't have the heart to try and move the kid)_ you answer. Dad sounds perfectly fine, if a little tired, and for a moment your lost, because you expected him to be on the edge of death or calling from a hospital of something since he's been gone for so long. When he says he's not coming back that puzzlement quickly vanishes. When he tries to blame Sam for him leaving protective rage starts boiling in your veins instead.

He tries to say something about Sam, about the demon that killed mom doing something to him but you can't even begin to grasp how he can possibly think that Mom's death had anything to do with your baby brother. He was fucking Six. Months. Old. He couldn't even hold a spoon firmly on his own, how the Hell could he have _anything _to do with Mom or the demon? And lately he's been doing nothing but driving himself straight into the ground searching for the man that shouldn't have gone missing in the first place, it's a god-damned miracle to get him away from the books long enough to eat, sleep, or shower. Anger that you didn't even realize was there, building quietly up for the part fourteen years, suddenly boils over and before you even fully realize what your doing you chuck the phone into the woods that surround the motel.

You stand there for a few extra moments, brain running furiously as you wonder if it's even worth trekking out to retrieve what's left of the phone, since your beyond sure that it cracked against some random tree. A soft touch on your shoulder startles you out of your stupor and you turn to see Sam standing in the doorway, a odd mix of worry and resignation on his face. He pulls you back into the room and forces you down on one of the beds. You didn't notice until now but it was fucking _cold_ outside. Sam's got you wrapped in both motel comforters plus the spare from their rucksacks before he sits beside you. The quiet only lasts for a few moments before he speaks.

"Dads not coming back is he?"

It's more of a statement than a question and you wonder briefly how much Sam really heard. He takes your continued silence as its own answer before asking another question.

"What do we do now?"

You're an eighteen year old high school dropout who was forced to grow up before he should have, and practically raised his four years younger brother since he turned two. You can shoot most guns better than a trained marksman, know eight different exorcisms in their original Latin text, as well as their English translations, can speak rough Spanish and German on top of that and can take apart and reassemble the car in a week and a half and have it working better than it did before you started.

For once you don't have an answer.

--------

It's kind of disturbing how quickly you and Sam adjust without John there. _(you stopped calling him Dad on that cold night, just couldn't do it anymore)_ You settle down semi-permanently in a small town in Southern Wyoming so Sam can finish school with some sense of permanence. You get a part time job working shifts with Tommy, who runs the towns garage and Sam works after school in the local library with Old Lady Rose so you can pay off the small apartment you rented out. You guys still go on hunts but their mostly lower level now and much better researched, thankfully resulting in less trips to the ER. Sam gets his first ever real girlfriend there _(and she was way out of Samantha's league)_ and you end up dating his English teachers daughter _(which seems impossible when you compare the teachers looks to the daughters)._ You realize there how nice it is to have at least some normalcy in your life around the hunting, something more comfortable than the car to return to every night.

Shit runs downhill though.

You've mostly cut off contact with the other hunters. Every once in a while you'll get a call from someone making sure your still alive and kicking. Even less than often than that you get a message from John letting you know he's still alive but other than that its just you and Sam, Sam and Dean, living normal lives by day and fighting evil by night. _( Every time you say this Sam snorts and mutters something about 'delusions of grandeur') _One night Sam finds mention of locals vanishing into the woods the next town over. He dives right into research mode and digs up Wendigo as the most likely suspect. You can see the hesitation in his eyes as he asks if they should call in some back-up for this one, since they've never faced one before. You consider it seriously for a few moments before deciding two should be enough to take it down.

One of the worst fucking plans, in a long list of dumb plans, in your fucking life.

Damn thing moves faster than you or Sam can track it, managing to slice you up and throw him into a tree before deciding to drag you back to it's lair. _(and believe you, hanging by your wrists when there's four , two inch deep, gashes in your side and a damaged collarbone. Not a fun thing to do) _

You lose track of time as you dangle in that damn cave, the only constant is the worry that any day now it's gonna come back, dragging Sam along behind it and string him up beside you. 'Cause you know Sam isn't just going to give up and leave you here. Regardless of any injuries the kid might have himself, he's not going to just slink back into town like a beaten dog. _"Never leave a man behind", _from all the shit John taught you two that one buried itself deepest in Sam's brain.

In what had to be a few days _(three and a half you later learn) _Sam comes back. He looks like someone from Hell's Angels worked him over a few times but judging by the look on his face and the fact that the pains no more than a dull buzz now makes you think your probably worse off. You can't see the exact moment Sam kills the thing but you can definitely hear the things death shriek and smell it burning. Sam appears back in front of you, favoring his right side now and cuts the ropes that have been holding you to the ceiling. You must have cried out or something when your arms came down cause Sam's got this terrified look on his face and he's talking but all you can hear is garbled nonsense _(those damn Peanuts references again) _The last thing you see before fading out completely is the blood seeping though Sam's shirt. Before you can try to say anything about it darkness claims you.

You come to in kind of in the car. Your eyes are to heavy to open but you can hear the rumble off the engine your "mullet rock" playing softly, the hum of asphalt below the tires and Sam somewhere in front of you shouting, either into a phone or at other drivers on the road _(and judging by the fact that he just called someone a "brain-dead, stupid ass shitwad that can't drive to save his fucking life", you'd judge its other drivers) _

You realize two things in the next few moments: A) If Sam's ever this pissed again you don't want to be at the receiving end, and B) Your brothers got to be one of the most inventive cursers in the world. A slight smile tugs at your lips before darkness finds you again.

--------

Lights.

More shouting.

Unfamiliar hands grasping and pulling.

You manage to open your eyes far enough to see the glaring white walls of what can only be an Emergency Room. Rolling your head slightly to the left you can see Sam and know instantly that some things wrong. He listing still, worse than he was in the cave and his left arms hanging at a crooked angle. All that blood can't possibly belong to you if your still alive. You try to speak but all that makes it past your lips is a garbled moan.

Sam falls.

--------

Beeping.

The whoosh-click of something breathing for you.

A sigh of someone beside the bed, followed by the sounds of someone shifting.

Something warm grasping your hand.

A voice.

Darkness

--------

You wake up slowly. There's no tube down your throat anymore, which is a relief because you've woken to that a few to many times and it means you can breathe on your own. Opening your eyes is a bitch, they've got to be cemented shut with the force it takes to lift them.

Once they are open they take a while to focus, all you can see at first is white ceiling and some big, blurry thing sitting in the chair. You notice instantly though that there's no Sam.

Before you can panic the blobman speaks.

"Sent Sam back to the apartment so he could clean up. Kid looks like he went a few rounds with a rhino on PMS."

That statement draws a weak, painful laugh from you as you realize that if the blobman speaking like that he could only be Bobby. He slowly comes into focus, frowning worriedly at you.

"What the Hell happened to you kid?"

You can't really talk at first so Bobby starts. Apparently you've been in a coma for the past two weeks _( not your first coma, probably not the last one either) _and Sam called him after the first week, asking him to come down because the doctors said he wasn't going to pull through.

The Sam calling Bobby part doesn't surprise you since the mans practically family but the fact that he waited an entire week does. You half-expected him to call every hunter in the tri-state area, John included, and start a fundraiser or something.

John. You didn't expect him to be here but the fact that he isn't still makes a tiny part of you feel even more like shit. That and you know that Bobby's gonna start prying eventually and right now you really can't handle that.

Sure enough he asks and you try to dodge _(unsuccessfully) _the question. Before he can prod more Sam speaks from the doorway, startling the hell out of you both 'cause the lanky 6-foot monster you call your brother moves way more quietly than he should be able to. He still looks like shit and his arms now in a cast but you take comfort in his presence, letting him explain John's absence as you drift further back into the darkness.

The last thing you see before falling back asleep is the pissed look on Bobby's face. You know that at this point if he ever sees John again he's gonna beat the shit out of him

After about a week the doctor says your fit to go home with strict instructions to take it easy. Judging by the determined set of Sam's face your not gonna have much of a choice on that front. Bobby left a while ago but he starts keeping a closer watch on you both, calling every week or so and insisting that all hunt ideas get run past him before you decide to take them.

--------

You celebrate your twentieth birthday at the salvage yard, or more precisely you celebrate your twentieth birthday at the town courthouse followed by a long trip to the bar and a quick stop with Melanie. Or was Melody…Meredith? Whatever her name was she certainly knew what she was doing. You stumble back into the house around three am the next day, Sam's out of it on the couch and for a second you feel guilty because he probably sat up for most of the night waiting. The light in the study leads you to Bobby, who's sitting behind his desk poring over some huge tome that you can't read the title of. He looks up slowly as you drop heavily into the rooms only other chair, a small grin marring the disapproving look he tries to give you.

You two talk, idle things your wasted mind won't remember in the morning but you know that, at some point, you let the courthouse story slip out. He gets this half sad, half happy sort of look as you pull out the sheet that labels you officially as Sam's legal guardian and pass it over. Before you pass out he pats your shoulder, still not speaking as he leaves the room. As darkness swarms over something heavy settles over your body and your sure that Bobby mumbled something along the lines of being proud of you.

Your kind of disappointed later when you can't remember what he said clearly.

* * *

**_END OF PART 1 (Insane wonders if you could, possibly clicky on the pretty button :) _**


	3. Dean part 2

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Shit.**

**AN: PART TWO HATH ARRIVED. REJOICE YE' WHO HAVE BEEN AWAITING !!**

* * *

Sam vanishes.

May 5, 2000 and your baby brother disappears like he was never born.

Your scared as Hell because when he left everything was fine. He left at 7a.m for school while you stayed at home, working on the Impala. By 4:30pm you're a little upset since he's usually home around 3:15 and hasn't called. By 6pm your pissed because if this is some sort of trick its seriously not funny anymore _(but part of you knows Sammy would never pull a trick like this) _By 10pm your panicking and out sweeping the streets, checking with friends.

None of them know where he is. According to them he never even showed up for school.

You search frantically for hours before relenting and calling Bobby for help. He immediately starts putting feelers out in the hunter community, asking others to look and while you respect and appreciate his help beyond everything else after the first week you start to lose hope. You don't stop looking though, remembering how Sam had ran himself into the ground looking for John almost five years ago but unable to keep from doing the same thing.

After the second week passes you break down and call John, the protective shield you've built around yourself cracking just a little more as the call lands straight in voicemail. Your unable to stop the tears as they start to flow as you leave John the message explaining how you lost him.

By the fourth week you've stopped caring about anything else. The only reason you still eat or wash is because Bobby moved in temporarily so he could help search. You can tell by the nervous glances though that its not enough. Bobby wisely decides not to push the issue, perhaps sensing that you'll will snap completely if he does.

--------

You find Sam on August 8, 2000.

Its more of a lucky coincidence than anything else. Bobby had heard through the grapevine about a cult that was becoming more daring a few towns over, that may have had something to do with some local teen disappearances. After a straight week of cajoling, pleading, and straight out ordering he convinced you to check it out.

The clues led to a huge abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. It had been there for years apparently, abandoned sometime during the Great Depression and no ones entered since. When you get there however there are obvious signs of recent use. Knowing it could just be some adventurous teenagers, yet with curiosity piqued you armed up and entered, silently falling back into hunters instincts even though you hadn't hunted anything other than Sam in nearly a month.

The first floor was empty but the crates had been shifted towards the edges of the walls leaving a large clear space in which someone had carefully drawn some huge summoning sigils. Your stomach sinks unpleasantly as you study them, your Latin may not be as good as Sam's but even you can tell that these people are gearing up to summon something big and whatever it is, it's gonna be nasty.

Before you can decide what to do there's a crash from below, followed by the faint sounds of raised voices and crying. Good judgment flies right out the window as you recognize one of the voices. Hope building dangerously in your chest fights with fear and anger and the voice is suddenly cut off. You find the stairs and hurry quietly down them, thanking whatever God may exist that there's no door at the bottom. Peering around the corner you can see six hooded figures standing in the center of the room while chained to the wall across from the door are six or seven teenagers and one girl who looks to be about nine years old, all in varying states of consciousness. Rage, pure homicidal _rage _boils up when you see Sam chained to the far corner, and as one of the hoods approaches him and jabs a needle harshly into his arm, you aim and fire without thinking, brains splashing across the wall as the hood rises…falls, syringe clattering to the ground. For a split second you could have heard a pin drop before one of the kids screamed and total chaos broke out. The other five hoods turn and rush you, trying to overwhelm you with numbers but your visions clouded with a red haze so thick that it obscures everyone but the monsters that took your little brother and the piece in your hand that can get rid of them.

Three are quickly dispatched, more brains and blood staining the floor and floor but one of the remaining gets in a lucky hit, catching you in the jaw and stunning you long enough for the other to knock the gun out of your grip. Even with the protective rage singing through your veins, their larger and stronger and have you pined to the floor. The bigger ones in the process of throttling you while the other leaves for "the sacrificial knife" _(which doesn't sound good no matter how you put it) _when another shot rings out.

It startling really to watch someone's face as they die. The man's face goes from angered to shocked in the span of a second before his grip relaxes and he keels over on top of you. With a slight growl of disgust you roll him off, lungs relishing the return of air. Sitting up and turning you see Sam, eyes wildly unfocused, the gun shaking in his hands. He doesn't lower the gun, cocking it again as you slide carefully across the blood slicked floor towards him. You freeze, because whatever they gave Sam is obviously fucking with his system and your terrified for a moment that he's gonna shoot you next. His eyes focus for a moment as he swings the gun upwards higher and fires again. You flinch instinctively as the bullet grazes your hair before you hear the grunt of a solidly placed hit come from the doorway. Turning quickly you remember the last man, who's sliding down the doorframe with a look of surprise frozen on his face as he stares down at the blood that's flowing steadily from the hole in the center of his chest.

The gun clatters to the floor behind you and your body switches to autopilot as you turn again, pulling out the phone and dialing 911. Sam's unconscious now and as you notice the harsh shakes that still rattle his body you realize how lucky you were that the two shots didn't hit you or one of the other kids. Checking for a pulse your terrified to feel how faint and thready it is.

You sit there one the gore-covered floor as you wait for the police to arrive, trying to release the cuffs that are holding Sam to the wall, bile rising in your throat as you reach the one on his right ankle, which is swollen dangerously and dark purple with constricted blood flow. Sirens are wailing overhead when you finally get it off and pick Sam up, a harsh sob tearing its way out of your throat at how _light _your six-foot-three-inch, sasquatch of a brother is. His head falls against your shoulder as you maneuver awkwardly up the stairway, breaths brushing feather light against your neck. It's lighter outside now, quickly approaching dawn, which throws you off cause it was somewhere around midnight when you got to the warehouse.

The police chief curses sharply when he sees you, ordering the damn paramedics to bring a gurney. You tell him numbly about the other children in the room, the bodies on the floor, seeing the horror on his face as he calls the other officers over, instructing one of them to call more ambulances, before entering the Hell-hole.

The next few hours pass in a blur. You remember getting in the ambulance with Sam, being forced to sit up front. You chance a glance back once and see they've got Sam hooked up to a mini-machine that's monitoring heart rate and breathing while they do a full-body check. The paramedics are keeping their conversation purposely quiet, maybe afraid of worrying you, or afraid that you'll explode if they say the wrong thing. Alarms start blaring about halfway there and the driver pulls over sharply, ordering you to take the wheel so he can help in the back. The talkings rushed now but you hear _"not breathing", "infection". _and _"allergic reaction" _which causes you to press the pedal more firmly, probably breaking every speed limit in US history to get to the hospital.

By the time you get to the hospital they've got Sam back online but he's still erratic. They rush him off into surgery before you can fully comprehend what's happening.

--------

Waiting room.

You've been sitting in the same chair for the past six hours, staring at the OR doors like it will magically make time move faster. You notice faintly that the rest of the people in the waiting room are as far away from you as they can get. One timid nurse walks over and offers you a pair of scrubs to change into. Looking down you see the dried blood and brain matter staining your clothes and nod, realizing what a picture you must have made sitting there like this. They probably think you're a insane murderer or something _(this raises an ironic chuckle some time later when you realize that it was actually kind of the right idea) _She leads you quietly to a private bathroom with a shower, telling you to take your time, that she'll let you know if anything important happens. You nod again, still feeling numb, and lock the door behind you. The light turns on automatically as you step further into the room and start stripping mechanically, turning the water on and stepping under the spray, wincing as the hot water stings against your shoulders and scalp. The water runs red down the drain, swirling round in dizzying circles. Before you realize what happened your sitting on the floor, pressed against the wall, broken sobs ripping themselves free of you as four weeks of tension, worry, and fear drain away to be replaced by relief and horror at what Sammy had to have gone through. What kind of monsters this is going to leave in his mind

--------

Eventually you find the strength to stand and finish washing off, pulling on the scrubs, stuffing everything except for your amulet, wallet, phone, and shoes into the bio-bag the nurse gave you with the clothes. The amulet goes back around your neck, dull gold shining in the fluorescent light. Wallet and phone are stuffed into your pockets and the shoes are slipped back onto your feet, dried rust-red colliding with the soft blue of the hospital clothing and the white tile floor. The nurse is waiting outside the door when you emerge, offering you a shaky smile as she tells you that Sam's out of surgery and moved into his own room.

You get the standard warning about how the machines look worse than they are before you enter the room, Nurse Abby _(nice name though your first thought, oddly enough, is that she doesn't really look like an Abby._ _Maybe its exhaustion talking ) _leaving to get the doctor. You take the chance to call Bobby, letting him know that you find Sam, not surprised that the news is already going insane with how a satanic cult had been snatching kids from the same community for the past six years. Sam looks like shit when you enter the room. His wrists, and left ankle are wrapped tightly, gauze matching the glaring white of the cast they've stuck on his other ankle and the hospital sheets. They've also bandaged his shoulder, and your pissed cause you didn't even notice anything wrong with it as you were carrying him out of that place. You stand by the bed, noticing how his hairs grown another few inches, shadowing the healing bruises that spread up one side of his face from cheekbone to temple. His eyes move restlessly under closed lids, and for a second you think that he can sense you fear _(cause Sammy's just like that sometimes) _but the more rational part of your mind says nightmares and memories, though that isn't really reassuring either.

The doctor enters silently, a older man, maybe late forties-early fifties, with serious blue eyes. You take an instant liking to the guy, he's got that "no-nonsense" air around him but at the same time he seems actually concerned about Sam _(unlike some asshole doctors you've met) _He introduces himself as Doctor Gabriel and asks you to sit down before he begins speaking.

The sinking in your gut warns you that this ain't gonna be good.

--------

The prognosis sucks.

Your dozing by the bed some hours later. Watching as Sam's chest rises and falls slowly. The doctor said not to expect him to wake up any time soon. Apparently when they almost lost him in the ambulance his mind shut itself into a sort of protective coma, shying away from the physical pain. Broken ankle, sliced up wrists from the cuffs one of which was showing signs of a beginning infection, fucking burn on his shoulder, with the lovely plus of mild starvation. Obviously he was goddamned in mother fucking pain. A small sigh leaves your lips as someone enters the room behind you and freezes. Craning your head around you see Bobby, stone-still, eyes wide with shock as he stares disbelievingly at Sam.

"What is the name of God happened ?" he asks, voice shaking slightly as he slowly moves the last three steps to the other chair. You explain slowly, finding Sam, killing the hoods, the trip to the hospital and subsequent wait, _(omitting the whole losing it in the shower thing) _and the doctors final prognosis. By the time you finish his face is ashen and he's griping the side of the bed so tightly that his knuckles have turned white. He's keeping it together though, for which your insanely grateful cause your three steps from losing it completely again. He leaves, saying its to grab some coffee, but you know its so he can freak out privately over this for a few.

_---------_

The next month and a half or so are total Hell.

Sam spends the first three weeks in the coma before waking and giving the attending nurse _(thank God it was a male) _a rather spectacular black eye when he panicked at the unfamiliar surroundings.

The week and a half after that are spent detoxing off whatever it was the fucking assholes that had taken him had kept him doped up with, as well as the meds the doctors had been pumping so his body could heal. At one point the hallucinations became so vivid that they decided he had to be restrained to the bed. The idea of locking Sam down again was unimaginable to you but they stopped caring after he broke the nurses nose _(ironically enough it was the same nurse he gave the black eye. The guy started avoiding you after that) _Bobby was a godsend during this point, when Sam's screaming panic attacks nearly caused you to have one of your own. He was the one that made sure you still ate, slept, and washed during this period, shrugging off your thanks with a quiet shake of his head and half-hearted smile as he ordered you to go back to the motel and sleep.

You think about calling John a lot during this time. The fear that he won't pick up makes you avoid the phone though.

--------

You remember clearly the day Sam really seems to "wake up". You were dozing again in the chair, Bobby had left a few minutes earlier to get some real sleep so it was only you there. The faint sounds coming from the bed dragged you out of the semi-sleep state your mind had gone into and you stood slowly ready to call the doctor if he panicked to badly and Sam's eyes jumped over to you. Your hand froze a few inches from the call button because for the first time in ages Sam's eyes are lucid, tracking and recognizing your movements.

"Dean?"

His voice is weak, scratchy, uncertain, and it's the best thing you've ever heard in your life _(including any and all female encounters you've had lately) _

"Get them off, please"

The fear burning through his words confuses you for a moment, for a heart-stopping second you think he's hallucinating still, then you notice how his hands are anxiously clenching, fingers reaching vainly for the straps that are holding his arms to the bed. It clicks into place as you remember the chains that you had released him from when you found him. Moving forward you speak softly, keeping him calm as you pull the straps loose. The instant his arms are free he wraps them protectively around his chest. The doctor comes in at this point, surprised at first to see him fully awake and free but he quickly recovers, questioning Sam gently as he checks his vitals Sam's answers are quiet, hesitant. His eyes never stop roaming the room, stopping frequently on Dean as though he expects him to vanish at any moment. You notice absently that Sam's hands are still moving, fingers silently tapping out the beat of Metallica's _"Fade To Black",_ and wonder if its some kind of coping mechanism.

--------

After another week the doctor gives you the go ahead to take Sam out of the hospital, warning you to make sure he doesn't stress out the ankle or shoulder too much and that the police are probably going to want to talk to Sam before you leave town, even though the kidnapping cases have gone cold. _(lack of evidence your ass) _Sam's slowly been returning to his old self too, though he smiles less often and his eyes seem permanently darkened by memories, he's stopped scanning everything and everyone like their about to turn into monsters and the compulsive music things been tapering off. You can tell under everything that's happened the Sam you know is still there, just aged too soon by too many issues.

Bobby insists that you come over to his house for the first few days and you agree, heart easing slightly as you see the relief in Sam's eyes, the slightest lift of his lips while he stares at the flashing scenery as you thunder down the road towards Bobby's house, music playing faintly, windows rolled down. For a moment it's just like old times, if it weren't for the cast on his foot and the bandage he still has to wear on one wrist you could pretend it was.

---------

The next few months after that passes quickly. You've decide to stay at Bobby's, helping around the yard as Sam continues to recover. The last bandage came of a couple of days ago, only reminders of the incident being the faint scars that encircle his wrists and ankles, the burn on his shoulder and the nightmares, which thankfully have been fading lately too. _(You had nearly ripped someone to pieces a few days before that when the police who came to question Sam frightened him so badly that he nearly had a nervous breakdown). _

You know things could be better than they are now, but on the other hand they could be worse. Sam's getting ready to return to school soon and has been showing an increasing interest to start hunting again _(though your sure he has alternative reasons for this) _He'd even given you the bitch-face a few hours earlier when you made a joke about Bobby needing to get laid after the guy nearly bit your head off for telling him the dishes needed cleaning.

All these things flee your thoughts as the rumble of a truck pulling into the yard filters in through the windows. Your jaw drops with shock as you look out the window to see John climb out of the cab, looking a fit to kill. Bobby's wearing a similar look to yours and as the bell rings you turn to see Sam slipping quietly out the backdoor.

This just has to be good.

* * *

**AN 2.0: I hope that thoust did enjoy the word dump I did see fit to bestow upon thee.**

**AN 3.0: If doth does wish to see Sammy's POV next, thoust shalt have to click ye' old review button**

_(Insane, Batshit and Crazy offer their apologies for the...issues that Jess is currently having. The overload of Math work and reading of Romeo and Juliet has temporarily screwed her brain to shreds. Rest assured they have tied her down with orders to get some goddamned sleep and to avoid the keyboard for at least six hours. If she isn't better soon...well she's fucked but the stories might get better !)_


	4. John part 1

**_YAY FOR 1:27 AM THANKSGIVING UPLOADS !!!_**

**AN: Damn Sam can be one wily dude sometimes. Jerk keeps running away before I can get his chapter really rolling. As a replacement please enjoy some SuckyJohn instead. **

**DISCLAIMER: If I owned them, I'd be extremely thankful. Sammy's also on my secret Christmas list, maybe I'll get lucky this year :) Unfortunately (for me at least) I do not own the pretty, pretty boys or their less pretty, sometimes a**hole of a father. **

* * *

The first time you saw Mary Campbell your sure you gaped like a fish out of water. Proud United States Marine, fresh back from War and all you can do is stare as this Angel _(back then anything that had long legs and curves was an Angel but she was different somehow) _pulls up to the garage. Fairly sure you sputtered like the village idiot too but somehow you secured a date by the time she returned for the truck.

It was a whirlwind romance, her father disapproving of Mary's choice of "some simple-minded, deadbeat, mechanic" your father dead and mother unable to care. Within three months you scraped enough money together to put a payment down for a simple ring and asked her to marry you, scariest damn thing you had ever done in your life, so sure she would turn you down.

She accepted and within a year of that she was pregnant with Dean.

It wasn't the perfect time to have a kid, Hell you both were working full time jobs just to afford the Tupperware in the cupboards, but at that point, even hardened by the war, unaware of what the future would bring, it was a good as it could possibly get.

---------

Dean and Sam were different in almost everyway when they were younger. Where Dean's birth was difficult _(the morning sickness lasted forever) _Sam's was almost eerie in how easily it passed. When Dean was born he came out three hours _later_ than the doctor had predicted bald, red, and screaming, ready to fight the world. Sam was a week and a half premature calm, soft blondish hair already covering his head, partially shadowing inquisitive brown eyes. Dean got colic about the same time he started teething _(resulting in short tempers and sleepless nights all around) _while Sam merely chewed on the teething rings and cooed. _(There were downsides to Sammy's normally calm attitude, when he did cry it was damn near impossible to calm him unless Dean was there)_

Regardless of how different they were you both knew the boys would be close as brothers possibly could. Mary had often joked that Sammy needed Dean there more than her, and it tears your heart now to see them together and remember her words.

--------

When Mary died your life shattered.

The shine in your life, one of the three reasons to come home after work, to continue trying to pay off the mortgage on the house while working two jobs, the bearer of your children, your _wife, _died pinned to the ceiling over Sammy's crib like a framed butterfly, blood dripping slowly from a gash in her stomach.

Your life may have well ended that night, burned with your beautiful Mary in that fucking nursery. Like a phoenix from the ashes a new John Winchester was born. A John Winchester filled with fear, hate, and a lust for revenge so strong it eclipsed almost every other aspect of life.

A week later you retired from the Marines and bought a Colt 1911, Beretta 92, and Winchester Model 1897 pump action shotgun _(Dean and Sam still use the Colt and Beretta respectively and the shotgun's buried in your trunk)_ before tearing out of Lawrence and swearing to avenge Mary's death, to hunt and kill the thing that stole her from you and your sons.

--------

Word of John Winchester spread quickly through the hunter grapevine. Go to a hunter in Montana and he'll teach you how to track a Wendigo before sending you down to Arizona for a crash course on Black Dogs. Finish the Black Dogs and your directed to Ohio for a medical training with one Tristan Reeves. _(Who's nephew was one of the first that Dean really opened up to after Mary's death, despite the almost five year age difference between the two) _

Most hunters are disbelieving when they hear your carting two children along with you, some are downright pissed and won't let you within forty feet of their house because of it. There are a few hunters though that you come to trust like family.

Pastor Jim, who had exorcised his first demon a few weeks after turning fifteen, when it walked into the church and tried to kill a bunch of nuns.

Tristan Reeves, who had adopted his nephew Caleb a few weeks after his brother-in-law went insane and slaughtered his sister. He acted more as trainer than hunter but when he did hunt it was a sight to see. Caleb had been an outwardly quiet kid from the start but a few weeks of acquaintance revealed a quick wit and sharp sense of humor that often had Dean clutching his sides as he laughed.

Bill Harvelle, who's wife Ellen had knowingly married into the Hunting business for reasons you were unwilling to ask. Their daughter, Jo, seemed fascinated by Dean whenever you visited, following his moves like a puppy. Ellen's sharp gaze had promised a swift death if anything happened between them. Regardless of Bill's job she didn't want Jo any closer to his lifestyle than she had to be.

Lastly was Bobby Singer. He was the one you felt most comfortable leaving the boys with, wife also having died due to demons. The junked out car lot had Dean entranced the first time you pulled up, which made it easier to leave him behind.

--------

When Dean was eight years old you left him at Bobby's so you could take down a Werewolf a few towns over. When you got back something was different, he seemed more open somehow. He's nothing like the exuberant four year old from before but he's much better than he was before you left.

Bobby pulls you aside before you leave, tells you how Sammy's worked his way through about a quarter of the library, how Dean helped him restore an old car. Pride raises its head and roars loudly. You've seen the effect this stay had on Dean, and promise him to come back.

The slightly surprised hopeful smile Dean gives you twists your heart the same time it warms it.

--------

Something changes after Christmas of 1991, not that you were there to see it. The hunt had turned out to be a little more complicated than you thought it'd be, resulting in you being home about 17 hours later than the expected.

You pull into the motel parking lot the day after, able to hear the familiar strings of Metallica's _"Enter Sandman" _bleeding through thin walls. You walk in, unseen by the boys for a moment, and freeze surprised. Their sparring, Dean and _Sam_ sparring, most of the motels dingy furniture pushed against walls to provide more room. Dean's moves are deliberately slow, allowing Sam to track the motions, evaluate, and repeat.

Sam glances up, sees you standing in he doorway, and freezes himself. Something like defiance flashing across his face before a calm sort of shield drops over it. Dean turns too, his expression closer to guilt and slight fear. Before the silence can grow to strong Sam speaks,

"How was the hunt _dad_?"

If it was meant to diffuse the situation it doesn't exactly work. There's something vaguely challenging in Sam's tone, the way his mouth curls ever-so-slightly as he says it, like the words are bitter to taste, that raises your hackles. Dean looks between you two, features obviously pleading as he stands in between.

It's way to late to deal with this. Your cold, sore, and exhausted and there's graveyard mud drying in places it really shouldn't be so you do the only thing you can at this point, to avoid hurting both of their feelings.

You pretend you don't notice. You let it go.

--------

Sam becomes a regular part of the hunting crew after his ninth birthday.

He's a quick learner, rivaling Dean at marksmanship by his tenth birthday and learning Latin exorcisms that took you three months in two and a half weeks. Regardless of this it's soon obvious _(to you at least) _that he doesn't have the same fire that drives yourself and Dean. Maybe it's the fact that he never got to know Mary _(God the fact that he doesn't hurts sometimes) _or the inherent deep-seated kindness that's so Sam, but he can't seem to embrace the hunting way the same way you've come to expect him to.

He's slipping away right in front of you, becoming jaded, sarcastic, and cutting. You can try to blame this on too much time around older hunters, Caleb, even Dean but deep down you know that it's the lifestyle itself that's wearing him down.

It's burning him inside to be that way, you can feel it, see it in the way he interacts with the things and people around him.

It's burning Dean to watch him do it.

-------

Sam starts to change after his twelfth birthday.

Of course him changing isn't entirely unexpected, he's getting taller, stronger, more rebellious, teenage junk like that, but this is a different kind of change, you can't even fully explain it.

It's like he distancing himself, being pulled away by some other force. He'll have these moments, during the few times your in the same room and _not_ arguing where he just sort of stares at you or Dean or just off into space and gets this weird brooding/puzzled/pleading look on his face. Dean takes this in stride, accepting it as another of Sam's bizarre behavioral quirks, usually joking Sam out of it but you get the sense that something's shifting inside of him and he doesn't know how to handle it…but is unwilling to ask for help. _(Damn Winchester Stubbornness and Pride) _

A lot less vaguely amusing are the inexplicable migraines that start developing. One moment he'll be perfectly fine, joking and smiling with Dean or arguing with you and the next he's bowed over the toilet and barfing with a vengeance while Dean rubs his back or curled in a ball on one of the beds, burrowed under a heap of blankets with the drapes drawn and lights switched off. In both instances the aspirin do jack-shit combating the pain.

Sam is usually quiet, withdrawn more than usual for days after these incidents and after the fourth time_ (the day before the anniversary of Mary's death)_ you drag him to a hospital while Dean's at school to have a doctor look at him. The doctor runs quite a few test and can't find any reason for the migraines, though he recommends more testing at a larger hospital, and prescribes a certain, potent kind of medicine. _(You couldn't even pronounce the shortened version of it's name) _

The ride back to the motel is quiet, Sam's curled up in the back seat, dozing lightly, still slightly under the influence of whatever drugs the doctor gave him during the testing. The urge is sudden, it strikes you out of nowhere.

"_Christo" _

You whisper the word, music almost drowning it out, but Sam still reacts. It's extremely quick, just a faint mumble and tensing, it could have been a reaction to a dream for all you know, so you say it again, louder this time.

"Christo."

Sam flinches again, face momentarily tightening in pain. A sour feeling begins to build in your stomach as you refocus on the road. Emotions chase each other wildly through your heart and mind as you pull into the motels parking lot. You almost don't notice as Sam climbs out of the car and shambles towards the room, trying unsuccessfully a few times before he manages to force the key into the lock and enters. You climb slowly out and follow. By the time you've reached the doorway he's face first on the bed feet hanging of the edge as he speaks into the sheets. _(You were reminded at this moment of Dean when he was about three. Kid never shut-up, even talked in his sleep for a while there) _

Without really noticing what your doing, you begin moving around the room, gathering your few possessions into two duffels, the need to just _get away_ for a while growing strong in your chest. You just need some time to figure this out a few days, couple of weeks at the most.

As you head for the door you hear Sam shifting behind you and are almost afraid to turn around and see black eyes staring at you out of your baby boys face.

" 'vryth'ng 'k Dad?"

Guilty relief blooms in your chest as you turn and meet Sam's medicine hazed, but obviously green, eyes. He's still confused, brain obviously not working as quickly as usual, as he blinks wearily towards you.

"Yeah Sammy, everything's good, just need to figure something's out," you say quietly

"Oh," he blinks again, the urge to sleep clearly pulling at his thoughts "Need some help?"

The urge to laugh at the sheer _innocence _in Sam's voice hits you for a moment, quickly dampened by the memory of his reaction in the car.

"No Sammy, just go back to sleep, Dean's gonna be back soon."

Sam nods slowly and falls back down, eyes sliding closed again.

Sighing one more time you close the door softly behind as you leave.

* * *

**AN 2.0: _For those who think John's reaction to Sam's reaction may have been a bit extreme:_**

**I personally see John as a caring, but revenge driven and slightly paranoid man. Therefore, in my sleep deprived mind at least, it made sense to have John over-react to Sam's reaction to Christo, ( which I will be exploring more in Sam's chapter and maybe part 2 of John's) and have him leave.**

**  
Beyond that I hope the chapter made sense to ya'. John's not really my favorite character but I'm trying not to bash him...too much atleast**

_**Clickity-Click-Click the purrty, purrty review button thingy pleaseze :) **_


	5. John part 2

**AN: Hope ya'll had an enjoyable Thanksgiving :)  
Mine actually went better than expected (other than may Mom managing to explode a glass casserole pan) so I hope your didn't totally suck donkey's nuts :)**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sam Winchester, or Dean Winchester, or their dad, or Metallicar, or even one tiny gun (which is probably a good thing)  
I do, however, own four Supernatural posters, Issues 9-13 of the Official Supernatural Magazine, all four seasons on DVD, multiple copies of each Harry Potter novel and a hunting knife that I keep in it's sheath under my pillow for protection from any asswads stupid enough to try to break into my room at night and take any of the aforementioned items.

* * *

It's been almost a week since you left your boys behind.

You had spent the entire rest of that day driving aimlessly in a truck that had been parked next to the Impala, huge black thing with Tennessee tags _(which were exchanged before you crossed the border)_. A few hours past the border your phone had started ringing, checking the caller id you saw Dean's name flashing impatiently.

You didn't answer.

A few minutes later the voicemail tone beeps, you ignore that too and within six minutes the phone is vibrating again.

You switch it off and shove it inside one of the three bags that basically contain your entire life. _(two have basics, clothes and such. The third has a few weapons that you snagged from the Impala's trunk before leaving) _

You've got a while to go before you sleep.

--------

Three weeks after that you're parked across the street from the same motel you left the boys in, staring intently at the door that hides them from you.

It's a few minutes before one am and freezing fucking cold outside. Part of you is just begging to walk up to that door and knock. To apologize to Dean for leaving and to Sam for what happened to him all those years ago. The other half, the stronger military half, warns you that its not a good idea and pulls out the phone and dials Dean's number.

It rings for a few tense moments before you see Dean slip out of the room, glancing over his shoulder before closing the door and flicking the phone open.

"What's going on Dad?"

His voice is weary, tinged with more than a small amount of fear and it strikes you that he probably thinks your on your deathbed in some backwoods shelter or something. _(He tended to get panicky back than if he lost track of you or Sam, something that has definitely changed over the years with you at least) _

"I'm fine Dean, trust me"

You can see the confusion on his face clearly from across the parking lot, and your heart sinks slowly as the weight of what your about to say lands square on it. Dean's always been fiercely protective of Sam _(big brother instinct enhanced by the training you forced on him) _and if you know your son what your about to say is only going to draw one reaction from him.

"…Well, what's going on then, when will ya' be back?"

"I'm not coming back, not now at least, I can't,"

The confusion on his face is replaced by this kicked puppy look that your much more used to seeing on Sammy. Thinking of Sam you sigh and try to continue.

"I've been doing some digging Dean. When that thing killed your Mom, I think Sam had something to do with it…I think it did something to him."

Yeah, just like you expected. The kicked puppy vanishes, replaced by furious brotherly vengeance. He's boiling and before you can say anything else he chucks the phone into the trees. Your kind of at a loss for a few moments, unable to do much more than watch as Dean stands in the cold and stews _(boy didn't even look like he was registering the cold) _

Just as your about to abandon your foolish quest and go force Dean back into the room the door creaks back open and Sam pulls him back in. Your struck in those few precious seconds by how _exhausted _he looks, dark bags under his eyes visible even in the poor light and distance.

You sit there for a few more minutes after the door closes, heart fighting with brain over what the next logical step is compared to the right one.

Logical wins out and starting the truck you drive away.

_(Weary green eyes watch from behind the window as you go.)_

-------

The next few months pass quietly. You assume since there haven't been any raving calls or death threats that Dean hasn't told any other hunters about your leaving. And despite what he may think about your abandoning them you still check in every once in a while.

You know that they've settled down slightly in Southern Wyoming. You know that their both working to pay for the small, but comfortable, apartment Sam picked out. _(Carved a few extra protection symbols around the outside of the windows too) _You know that Sam's got a girlfriend and is truly excelling in school _(that may have had something to do with Dean's relationship with Mrs. Kelling's daughter but you can't be sure) _and that he and Dean have been tackling some smaller hunts in the area during weekends and school breaks. On the downside you also know that Sam's still got the migraine things _(though their not getting worse yet)_ and Dean's sometimes working too much for too little pay. You know how their trying to cut back on certain things so they don't draw any unwanted _(and unneeded)_ attention from the local authorities.

It warms and chills you at the same time to see the weird brotherly/father-son relationship they've had since Dean was six grow with your absence. Your glad, because they're too close to do something stupid or harmful to the other yet at the same time some small twisted part is jealous that they're so close. You have no right to feel this way, Hell you're the reason Dean's so protective of him anyways.

--------

You know about the Wendigo even though Sam never called you about it. _(your still scared to ask him why he didn't) _

You had been headed back in to town, checking in on the boys, make sure they were doing okay, when someone had started laying on the horn behind you. Glancing up in the review you caught a glimpse of the Impala's unmistakable form as it swerved around you, cutting off another driver as it sped past faint sound of someone's _very_ pissed off cursing floating through your window.

You followed at a distance, worry ratcheting up as you nearly drove past haphazardly parked in the Hospitals ER bay.

Some careful digging revealed the story, _(or at least the story Sam had given the doctors) _He and Dean had been camping out in the mountains when something had clawed Dean up while he was out collecting wood. You had seen Dean once after one kind nurse had forced Sam down to the cafeteria to eat, all bandages and tubes.

Unable to stomach the sight of Dean so still, knowing deep down that it's inadvertently you fault, you leave, narrowly missing Bobby as he blows into the hospital like some hillbilly version of an avenging angel.

--------

The next year passes quickly.

The hunters closest to Dean and Sam now know of your leaving, resulting in no less than 23 voicemails telling you what a fucked up, ignorant, bastard of a man you are. Checks on the boys become less frequent _(though you were there a few days before Sammy's seventeenth birthday when Dean drove up and down the towns main street, shouting "Sammy got laid !!" at the top of his voice. And you've got the video evidence to prove it) _

On the night of Dean's twentieth birthday you get a tape of him, obviously drunk off his ass, at some karaoke bar belting out The Darkness's _"I Believe In A Thing Called Love" _and can't help but to laugh _(though the fact that he managed to hit most, if not all, of the notes was a little…disconcerting)_. The laughter you can hear under the singing makes it clear who was videotaping, that and the "This is payback, Jerk" as the video ends.

Afterwards you wonder what Dean's birthday would have been like if you hadn't left.

Maybe it was better that you did.

--------

You stopped checking up on them soon after that, knowing that it wasn't really necessary anymore. Bobby called sometimes, kept you updated with how they were doing. Your free time became more devoted again to finding the thing that had killed Mary, unburdened by the weight of Sam and Dean's presence. Somewhere along he way your old phone got lost, misplaced in one of the various motel rooms that litter your past.

You replaced it without really thinking about it, or letting others know about it, too entranced by your current task.

It's a mistake your really regretting now.

--------

You drifted away from other hunters as your quest for Mary's killer came closer to ending. One night in particular your _this_ close to sealing the case, you can feel it, mere moments away from figuring the pattern out.

Your phone rings. Cursing furiously you answer.

"You better have a damn good reason for calling Caleb," you growl.

"Well since I finally tracked down your number. Just letting you know how your boys are doing _John_, or did you _forget _that you have two sons?"

There's something biting in Caleb's voice, a subtle danger that confuses and worries you at the same time. Taking a deep breath you force yourself to calm down and _not_ cuss Caleb out. _(something your insanely glad of now) _

"I know Caleb, things are just…complicated over here now. How're the boys doing ?"

Caleb sighs before answering, another sign that something's not quite right

"Their getting better, holed up at Bobby's again since Sam finished most of his rehab-"

He keeps speaking but his voice has faded out, replaced by the thundering of blood pumping through your own veins and huge, overwhelming knowledge that something had to be horribly wrong.

"Wait a second Caleb, why the Hell was Sammy doing rehab?" you snap, jumping to your feet and stuffing everything randomly into different bags. A stunned silence echoes across the line, solidifying the cold fear that's been blooming in your chest.

"You know why John, Dean's called you a million times…how could you not know…"

The challenging tone in Caleb's voice has been replaced with quiet confusion and fear. Before you can wring more answers out of him he speaks again.

"You really need to go see them John, God if you don't know yet…I can't explain why only Sam can really and he's not being particularly open about it…just get your ass over to Bobby's. Now."

The call ends abruptly, leaving you standing with the phone pressed to your ear, surrounded by archaic research and half-packed bags.

It takes a while to break out of your stunned trance, and once it does your moving without really processing, bags packed and foot pressed to the gas in what must be record breaking time.

You can't get to South Dakota fast enough.

--------

By the time you can actually see Singer Salvage yard a thousand different theories have formed in your head and the worries busy getting trampled by growing anger. None of the other Hunters you've called are picking up _(except for Pastor Jim, who hung up the second he heard your voice)._

As you pull up you can see the kitchen curtains twitch, exposing for the barest of seconds the chestnut mop you can still recognize as Sam's hair. You practically stalk up to the door, mashing the bell impatiently as you knock. Bobby opens it and you spare him a passing glare as you pass, grabbing Dean by the arm and dragging him into the kitchen.

It's time for a _family_ discussion.

--------

That didn't turn out quite the way you expected.

The discussion quickly transformed into a violent shouting match. _(actually managing to bypass some of the more memorable ones you and Sam have had)_ Accusations about things you can barely remember flying thick and fierce from Dean. Should've-Would've-Could've's spewing from you. As quickly as it starts though it ends, the very base of both arguments entering the room with a impressive crash and planting himself between you and Dean.

You take the next few quietly, tense moments to actually look _(up) _at Sam and see how he's changed. He's not wearing a coat _(for once you'll later learn) _so you can clearly see the faint scars that circle his wrists and the ones that trail up his arms. _(he's also still too skinny, though it's apparently much better than it was a while ago, and you'd really just rather not think about that.) _You can see the hardened, slightly unhinged gleam in his green-brown eyes as he just _glares _at you. He's also taller than you by about two inches which helps with the whole "back the fuck off my brother" thing he's working now.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, to break the silence that's building uncomfortably in the room. Sam solves that problem for you though.

He punches you, square in the mouth. _( it's not the first time you've been punched in the mouth but your damn sure you swallowed a tooth in that instance) _

Your fairly sure that Dean's the only reason Sam doesn't pound you to a bloody pulp in the next few moments. As it is he's content to cuss you out fully in about five different languages _(your damn sure there were a few Enochian ones mixed in there, just for the hell of it)_ while Dean holds him back.

This is gonna be much, _much_ harder than you thought.

* * *

**AN 2.0: I strongly suggest listening to The Darkness's "I Believe In A Thing Called Love"/watching the video (it's on Youtube) if you've never heard it before, just to understand what I was aiming for making Dean hit all those notes. Just try to picture him wearing that outfit while he sings. *Cackles madly and plots more assorted torture for Dean with muses :D* **

**AN 3.0: Reviews make the Winter Hiatus easier to take :^), for the fans,writers and their muses!  
Jess :)**


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